


five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - RENT Fusion, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Families of Choice, HIV/AIDS, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Multi, Past Character Death, Past Drug Addiction, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:56:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9124744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: “Your candle’s out again,” Robb sighs. “And this is my last match.”“Too bad if it goes out,” the guy replies as Robb lights it. “Guess that maybe if it does we should approach the matter with some imagination.”“Meaning?”“Hm. I mean, told you before. You couldlight my candle, if you want to. I wouldn’t say no.”





	1. would you light my candle?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TotemundTabu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/gifts).



> So, what happened is that I was thinking of what to do to cap off the throbb advent week (I might have another shorter one early next year though) and the RENT soundtrack showed up on my mp3 randomizer. Guess what's set at Christmas as well? RENT. Guess what you're getting for the prompts _candlelight_ and _True Love TM_? The RENT AU. 
> 
> **additional warnings** : I know the tags make this look like an angstfest but I swear to everything that I took the premise of the original, cut off the part where they all think they can survive keeping artistic integrity intact and then since it's Christmas and I'm shit at killing people off, I pretty much cut all the worst from the basic premise. (Look at that guys, do you see character death warnings? No? Neither do I. ;) ) Also I changed character dynamics around a bit and I cut off a few characters so like the most similarities are all in part one. After then I pretty much deviated.
> 
> Other than that: **there is past Theon/Ramsay which is mentioned and discussed** also because he's 100% of the reasons Theon was cast as Mimì in this, but nothing graphic as usual. The withdrawal part is *not* described in details (also because this'd have been ten times longer and my target was finishing most of these fics before the 31st..) but there's a basic description of most symptoms that occur since one character went through it pre-fic and discusses it at some point. (Section two if you need extra warning.) If you don't want to see mentions of vomit and various other body fluids of the not nice kind, scroll by. Also again look at the tags, but one of the characters is a former addict and another is one when this starts. Also everyone's family is mostly *not* supportive of their life choices or sexuality or both. If you have a problem with any of that thread cautiously.
> 
> Also, since RENT is structured as describing a year in the characters' lives, you get a section for each season plus a small epilogue. All titles (main and chapters') are taken from the original musical, RENT sure as hell doesn't belong to me, no one in here does either and really I just own the reworking. And now I can saunter back downwards and happy New Year to everyone, keeping with the spirit of the original as well. ;)
> 
> Last thing: dedicated to the amazing advent week mod who REALLY deserves all our love for putting it together and who seemed fairly interested at the prospect of this specific au. <3

1\. _winter_

Sometimes, Robb wonders what would his parents make of his and Jon’s life choices, if they were still alive to witness them.

Every time it happens, he never lets himself linger too much on it, but he always answers himself that maybe he’s glad they can’t. Even if maybe both he and Jon wouldn’t be at this point if they hadn’t died, but who knows. That’s not what matters in this specific moment.

What matters is –

“Please tell me you have enough to pay at least for the electricity,” Jon says as wraps himself in his oversized black coat. “They cut it _again_. And we were overdue for two months.”

Robb sighs and hands him most of the money he’s scrounged up in the last couple of weeks – having published two sort-of-successful-records-in-one-year-for-his-scene still means he gets to play a couple gigs each week, but the pay’s what it is and given that he has to set some money aside for medication, however he manages to obtain it, and that they have to fucking eat on top of it… well, there’s a reason why his mother would be horrified at his current living circumstances.

“Sorry,” he says, “that’s the most I can spare. I mean –”

“Christ, Robb, obviously I meant not counting the meds. Let’s see.” Jon counts the money, then gives a small shrug and takes a battered envelope out of his pocket. “Okay,” he says, taking some bills out of it – Robb can see that they’re nowhere near enough. “That was what I made out of that dumb wedding video last week, which obviously was fucking underpaid, but if Ygritte gets paid for last week’s show _already_ and Renly comes back and has his share maybe we can dodge this one and we can worry about how we’re paying for the heating next.”

Right. Because that’s due in a month, isn’t it?

Christ. Sometimes Robb wonders how they ended up here in the first place, then he remembers the exact list of the aforementioned reasons and decides that he’d rather die of hypothermia and lack of healthcare services in fucking New York than back home, judged to hell and back by his aunt and her bloody husband. If they even let him come close to the house in the first place.

“I guess we should be thankful that our landlord doesn’t ask for rent?”

“God,” Jon agrees, “Oberyn Martell should apply for fucking sainthood. Now the only problem –”

The phone rings a moment later. Jon stands up and lifts the receiver sighing, like he already knows what it’s about.

Well. He probably does know that. Because who ever calls them on the phone if not –

“Renly? Yeah, they cut it off this morning. You’re downstairs? Okay, got it. Wait a moment.”

He closes the call and stands up, reaching for the spare keys they keep on the living room table.

“Don’t you tell me, he forgot his keys and the intercom’s not working because we don’t have electricity.”

“Indeed. Fuck this, I really hope Ygritte is giving those people a piece of her mind.”

“What surprises me is that they’d rather risk that than paying outright.”

Jon snorts as he heads for the window. “I know, right? Renly, catch!” He throws the keys outside the window and closes it before the room can get colder than it is already. The heating is shit, damn it. One of these days they’re going to start burning paper so that they don’t freeze to death. And they even have to pay for the damned thing.

“There. Guess he’ll be up in a moment. Hey, I told Ygritte I’d go get her in half an hour, I’m leaving the money in the usual drawer. When Renly comes up –”

“Sure, I’ll tell him to put his share in there.”

He’s about to grab his guitar back and see if he can at least scrounge some decent music together, he hasn’t been able to in months (guess why, he thinks sadly) but the moment he does he breaks down into a fit of coughing – damn it. He was sure he’d killed the bloody cold, _damn_ –

“Hey,” Jon says a moment later, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right? If you need more blankets just grab one of ours, the last thing you need –”

“I’m okay,” Robb cuts him, and tries to at least keep on looking at him in the eyes lest he gives out how he actually is not. But Jon really doesn’t need to worry some more about how Robb’s doing considering everything he’s done and currently doing for him already. “Really, it’s almost gone. I was sure I killed it until a minute ago.”

Jon sends him a look saying that _I don’t think so_ , but he thankfully doesn’t press. “Right. Put on a damned coat if you go out. I’m going to try and see if while I’m at that club I can find someone who needs my services, even if it’s their niece’s baptism or something.”

“Please, you’re better than that.”

“I know, but indie movies don’t pay bills. Nor the rent, good thing we don’t pay for it already.”

Robb doesn’t keep the small laugh in as Jon leaves the apartment – that was true, sadly. Even if not paying the rent is still what’s probably saving their arses right now. Shit, he should try and call a few of the usual clubs where he plays if he can’t write any music, but he’s suddenly feeling like going back to sleep for the next three years.

Hell, it wouldn’t be that bad of an idea. Maybe by the time he wakes up someone will have found a cure for AIDS and he’d be set for life, if he could afford it.

Yeah. Of course. And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride and he wouldn’t be scraping by to put together some fucking bills money on top of his bloody meds, he’d have never trusted his former manager who got him and everyone else in his damned band hooked on heroin back in the UK, and he wouldn’t relieve in his nightmares the moment he got his test results back and the piece of paper had a _positive_ stamped in the middle of it.

He also wouldn’t be relieving in his nightmares the three funerals he attended in the span of six months (somehow he was lucky and he survived until now – Dacey, Patrek and Wendel hadn’t, and then you wonder why he hasn’t been able to put a song together since then) or the moment his aunt, as in, the relative who got custody of all of his mother’s children after her death, pretty much cut him off from the rest of the family because he would have been a bad influence on his siblings and she didn’t want them around _rock musicians_ in the first place, never mind if they were addicts, never mind if they were plagued.

Fuck her and her husband – she wasn’t like that before she married that piece of shit. Surely maybe she wouldn’t have thrown Jon out long before cutting Robb off.

Right, because she didn’t want the illegitimate son of her dead sister’s daughter in law to sully her household after she took them in.

Good thing Jon kept in contact at least with him and he was more than willing to let him move in, even if of course it meant that Robb had to spend most of what money he had left for a one-way ticket to New York.

Meanwhile, where the hell is Renly? Robb glances outside the window, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Maybe he just wanted the keys but had some errand to run and might come back later? It wouldn’t be the first time it happens, but Jon said he’d come straight up. He opens the window and leans out – he’s really nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he just went to get a drink. Hopefully it was just that.

Also it’s fucking cold.

Well, he’s spent the last two hours scribbling lyrics that were complete utter shit. He could probably just burn them. Maybe he will when everyone else is back, it’d be a waste otherwise.

He shakes his head, grabs his own keys and closes the apartment’s door behind him, heading for the roof. It’s probably a bad idea since it’s even colder outside, but he needed some fresh air and while he hasn’t come to love New York the way Jon does, looking at it from here – well, it does look beautiful. You’d never imagine that the street just below is packed with drug dealers, and good thing they sell fucking AZT or he’d never get by with what he gets for free from the government.

Jon had come here just after finishing high school – he somehow won a full ride to film school and given that he spent the last year of his life couch surfing in between his friends and Dad’s friends back in London because Aunt Lysa had been adamant on not wanting him in her house any longer, Robb still wonders how he managed. Back before he left, he talked about New York as if it was some kind of promised land, but Robb can only imagine why.

These days, neither of them is that keen on the whole American dream myth – it’s done nothing for Jon and not much for Robb either, but at least Jon had a decent life when Robb crashed into it. Crappy apartment (rent free because their landlord is a saint), a firecracker of a girlfriend and odd jobs that made him scrape by at least. And Renly’s also a decent roommate – he can be a bit too self-centered at times, but he’s okay and he also is in bad relations with his family because his older brother really didn’t like finding out he fancied men. Robb could commiserate.

Not that his aunt or uncle ever found out he fancied both. Well, he’s occasionally fancied men, too, but these days he’s just put a tombstone over relationships of whichever kind – it wouldn’t be fair to risk getting anyone infected and he’s tried to find out as much as he can about what the fuck he’s dying of. Never mind that he’s hardly a joy to be with these days, which he hates because once he wasn’t this negative or this cynical or this detached from anyone who wasn’t Jon, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Trusting people too much got him and most of his friends royally fucked and killed in three cases out of four, he can’t talk to his siblings regardless of how much he misses them like a limb, even if at this point it’s better if they stay out of his life. The last thing he’d want to is the people who once looked up to him seeing him scrape by like this, never mind that when his turn comes he’d rather not have them witnessing his death. He’s seen enough people die of what he has and it’s not pretty. Better that they don’t – he feels bad enough that Jon will have to deal with it.

Hell, he thinks, maybe before he dies he’s going to have a fit of inspiration and write a beautiful, successful song that will sell or will be used in some fucking commercial (he’s felt real hunger way too much to care for artistic integrity these days) and it’s going to earn him enough to repay Jon, pay Oberyn their overdue rent and leave enough so that Jon can pay for his funeral when his time comes.

Shit, since when was he ever this morbid in his life? Two days before Christmas, on top of everything? Maybe he should follow Jon’s advice and go to one of those bloody life support meetings, but he’s halfway sure he’s only going to feel even more down if he surrounds himself with people who are worse off than he is and probably feel way less sorry for themselves than he is.

Fuck this.

He goes back towards the opening in the rooftop that leads to the stairs and slams it closed as he walks back in the hallway. He knocks on the door, wondering if Renly’s back – he’s not.

This is weird. He shrugs and opens the door with his own keys – the inside of the apartment is just slightly warmer than the hallway. Good fucking lord. Maybe he’s really going to burn those papers now –

Then someone knocks on the door.

Now _this_ is new.

No one usually knocks on the door unless it’s friends of his flatmates’, and they usually come around when they know the others are in. The neighbors know perfectly that they don’t have any food to lend or anything else they might need, so –

Well, he might as well open. It’s probably Renly having lost the keys or something.

He opens the door.

It’s definitely not Renly.

“Got a light?” The guy in front of him asks, and –

Oh, _fuck_.

See, thing is – Robb does generally fancy women. Generally. He’s had his exceptions. Enough to know that when it comes to men he does fancy them when they have a certain kind of look, and – the guy in front of him has it in spades.

Slightly taller than him except leaner, long dark hair, dark eyes, a fairly handsome face that looks out of some painting, a nice cocky smile that makes his knees go slightly weak as the guy holds a candle out toward Robb. He’s also painfully underdressed – ripped jeans, sneakers and some cheap gray t-shirt under a jeans jacket isn’t a proper attire for December.

For a moment, Robb thinks that it’s why the guy’s shivering even if he’s trying to not let it show that he’s fucking cold.

But then he notices that there’s cold sweat all over his face.

Oh, _no_.

“Yeah,” he replies, fishing inside his pockets for the matchbox he stuck in them earlier when he thought he’d light a few pieces of paper on fire sooner rather than later. “Are you all right, though?” He asks as he finally finds it.

“Sure. Why shouldn’t I be?”

Well, guy’s a born actor. He can definitely sound unaffected even if he’s obviously not.

“Hm, well, you’re shivering,” Robb replies, taking out one of the matches.

“Ah, it’s nothing, I didn’t pay the bills and I’m without heating. Happens. So, are you _lightening my candle_ or not?” At that he sends Robb a smile that makes his knees definitely go weak. Also – wait a moment. The accent is not American.

“Fine,” Robb agrees, and lights a match. He lights the candle and almost expects the other man to leave at once, and while he shouldn’t encourage the conversation if the guy’s sweating for reasons other than the cold, he’s also the first person Jon didn’t introduce him to that he’s talked to in months.

“What are you staring at?” The guy asks. Damn. Busted, Robb figures. He also took a step back so that the guy’s pretty much walks inside the apartment.

“Nothing, I just – your accent. Sounds familiar.”

“Huh. Somehow I always am _familiar_ to people, but this is the first time someone uses the accent excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse! I mean, uh, you sound… British?”

“Got one in. Irish?”

“Yeah,” Robb confirms, and then the guy curses as some wax hits his fingers – the light on the candle goes out. Robb lights another match.

“Thanks,” the guy says. “Well, nice to find fellow expats. Thanks for the light, man – ah, shit.”

He’s using his other hand to pat his jeans’s pockets and his jacket’s – he ends up handing Robb the candle and Robb takes it at once.

“What’s the problem?” Robb asks, figuring that he already knows the answer.

“Nah, nothing, I just – I think I dropped my stash, damn it.”

Fuck. First person Robb meets on his own in months, he’s hot, they come from the same part of the world, and of course he dropped his _stash_.

He doesn’t have time to feel disappointed of what he’s just found out because then the guy goes and kneels on the ground giving Robb a very good view of his ass, that he can see very well since he’s holding the damned candle.

Fuck, fuck –

“Enjoying the view?”

“Sorry?” Robb startles so much that the light goes out – thankfully there’s some light coming in from outside.

“Hey, don’t be that shy. I’m told I have the best ass in between this block and at least the next five. I see you’re agreeing.”

“What? I mean – yeah, well, you have a nice – fuck, I’m –”

“No need for that,” the guy says. I asked, after all.”

Jesus. He stands up, shrugging some dust from his jeans. “So?”

“Okay, fine, you’ve got a nice ass, and you still look familiar.”

“Hm. Maybe you’ve seen me at work. Ever been to the Wall?”

“Uh, yeah, my cousin knows people who wait there. Wait – oh shit, didn’t they use to tie you up over there?”

“It’s a living,” the guy replies, still fucking _smirking_. “And I’m good at it.”

Robb absolutely doesn’t doubt it. He had just seen the guy’s face on a flyer advertising one such evening, and he never personally went, but –

Ah. There it is. He leans down and snatches the small bag of heroin from the ground before the other man can.

“Why,” the guy says, not looking particularly sad at the outcome, “good catch. I imagine you aren’t really keen on giving it back, are you?”

“I used to be into this,” he says, and he’s really relieved to find out that looking at it doesn’t make him want to fall off the wagon. Might be that he was the one out of his circle who used it sparingly and it was just his luck he caught an infected needle, but still, it’s – good that he’s nowhere near tempted. “This shit kills you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Robb is starting to think the guy has zero sense of self-preservation, if only because he smiled in a way that was honestly… before it was charming, now it’s the smile of someone who’s indeed perfectly aware that using will kill you but doesn’t give a shit about it.

“Besides,” the guy says, “it’s occasional.”

Robb can recognize _that_ lie when he hears it, but never mind. He shrugs and looks at the candle he’s holding in his other hand, then hands it back.

“Your candle’s out again,” Robb sighs. “And this is my last match.”

“Too bad if it goes out,” the guy replies as Robb lights it. “Guess that maybe if it does we should approach the matter with some imagination.”

“Meaning?”

“Hm. I mean, told you before. You could _light my candle_ , if you want to. I wouldn’t say no.”

Now he’s up in Robb’s space and shit, never mind the cold sweat and the bags under his eyes and the fact that he’s obviously into heroin, since he’s not high right now. Robb could say yes, and it’s not a thing he should do because the last thing he needs is risking to add more problems to the guy’s already existing ones. God. Never mind that –

“You don’t even know my name,” Robb says.

“Why, then tell me.”

“I’m Robb,” he says.

“Charming,” the guy replies, and then reaches forward and grabs the little bag from Robb’s fingers. Damn it.

Now he probably will disappear and Robb will deserve it because seriously, he got played well enough, but –

“I’m Theon,” the guy says, winking. “Nice to meet you. And thanks for the _light_.”

Then he disappears downstairs.

 _Theon_.

Well, the name suits the guy, definitely, but Robb doesn’t even let himself linger over it. No point. He’s going to get hurt in the long run regardless and again, no need risking the guy’s health any further. Too bad.

Half an hour later, no one else has come back home and Robb goes to bed at a time he’d have scoffed at, years ago.

But the times when he wouldn’t fall asleep before three AM at best are done, same as his old life, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

\--

“Is the downstairs guy into you?”

 _What_?

“Ygritte,” Robb tells Jon’s girlfriend, blinking and desperately trying to stay awake, “what the fuck?”

She grabs his arm and drags it off his bed, showing him to the window leading to the living room balcony.

There’s something written in the frosted glass.

 _Christmas brunch tomorrow? Just you and me. Theon._ And then there’s an arrow pointing down.

“What the fuck,” he says again as Jon hands him a cup of coffee.

“I didn’t even know you knew each other,” he says.

“We didn’t!” Robb protests. “He was here yesterday looking for matches. We talked a bit and then he left. He’s not –”

“Yeah, my ass,” Ygritte interrupts him. “Well, while you were seducing people –”

“I wasn’t –”

“I did scare those assholes into paying me and Jon’s got a New Year’s party to film in a week. Now if Renly did pitch in –”

“Wait, he’s not back yet?”

“Sorry?”

Robb shrugs as he drinks his coffee. “He never showed up yesterday. I just went to bed, I figured he went to get a drink or something?”

“Shit,” Jon says, “I thought he already came back and fell asleep. We should –”

The phone rings and Jon rushes to grab it. “Renly? Christ, we thought something bad happened, what – they _mugged you_? Under the window? And – what? Yeah, sure, no one’s going anywhere in the morning at least, even if Robb has a date proposal from the guy downstairs.”

“Jon, for –”

“I don’t know, guess so. What? Your guy _knows_ him? Okay, guess he could give Robb a few pointers then.”

“The hell?”

“Yeah, see you in a bit. Bye.”

“The fuck was that?” Ygritte asks, looking as puzzles as Robb feels.

“So, Renly was about to come upstairs but got mugged before he could – someone saw me throw him the keys.”

“Jesus,” Robb thinks, “I should have –”

“Nah,” Jon interrupts, “you shouldn’t have, because then this guy who Renly described as _the most angelical vision you’ll lay your eyes upon in this mortal coil_ or something equally terribly corny found him and brought him over to his place and they apparently are getting cozy. Or something.”

“You’re shitting me,” Ygritte says.

“You think I’d make that up?”

“… No. You’re nowhere near that much of a sap.”

“ _Thank you_. So, apparently, this prince charming of Renly’s knows downstairs guy. And he’s more than willing to give you some advice when it comes to accepting that brunch offer or not. And they’re coming over.”

“Guys, I’m not –”

“Robb,” Ygritte starts, “you’re like, the closest thing to a brother in law I’m ever going to get, I guess, and believe me I appreciate that I’m getting some help in keeping Jon here out of his perpetual existential angst, and you’re entirely too nice for the hand you’ve been dealt, but let me tell you, don’t be a fucking idiot. I mean, I get why you have commitment issues, but life’s short, yours might be shorter than average –”

“Ygritte –”

“Jon, she’s just telling the truth, let her finish.” She hasn’t said one wrong thing after all.

“– And there’s no point in being miserable. If hot guy downstairs want to have brunch with you, I’d consider it. And send your aunt pictures.”

Jon snorts and Robb has to follow suit – now that would certainly make Aunt Lysa lose it, and he doesn’t even tell them that if the guy doesn’t use sporadically it’s a dead end.

He can’t do it again.

He finishes his coffee, eats something and takes his first damned AZT of the day when his timer beeps, and by the time he’s done and he’s put on some clean clothing there’s someone knocking at the door and Renly walks in looking –

Well, he has a black eye and a split lip, but he’s also grinning like it’s Christmas already, and possibly his birthday all rolled into one, which – okay. Fine. This guy of his really must have been one in a million.

“Here,” he says, throwing the keys at Jon, who catches them at once.

“Next time bring them,” Jon sighs before clapping him on the back. “Fuck, you gave us a scare.”

“Yeah, sorry, next time I’ll try to predict the future, satisfied?”

“Renly, cut the crap and introduce us to the unlucky guy who thinks you’re a good catch.”

“Nice to see I have to live up to high expectations,” a new voice says, and when Robb turns towards the door, since it was the direction it came from –

Well, damn it. He barely keeps himself from whistling out loud but it’d be the reaction of anyone with eyes. The guy has a face that seems just out of a renaissance painting, with blond perfectly shaped curls, large blue eyes, a perfect bow of a pink mouth that also seems out of some classical sculpture and a nicely toned body. He’s maybe too much of a flawless picture for Robb’s personal tastes – after all, _Theon_ ’s his type, isn’t he? – but it’s not just that he’s gorgeous. He’s also wearing a lovely bright green dress over a pair of equally green boots with heels, and his dark green coat definitely was conceived with a woman in mind. He’s also wearing some killer make-up – the golden eyeshadow goes great with both shades of green he has on him.

Okay, he figures he can objectively get where Renly comes from.

“Shit,” Ygritte says, whistling the way Robb hadn’t, “didn’t think you have it in you to bring here someone classy.”

“Enchanted.” The guy even has a nice voice. Christ, what does someone like this do in this shit neighborhood and how do they look like some literal ray of sunshine when they live in some crappy place like this? “I’m Loras, by the way. You must be Ygritte since I don’t see any other girl around here. He should be Jon,” he says, nodding towards him. “Renly, come on, he doesn’t look that much like he enjoys wallowing in his own sadness.”

“Can you all stop saying I’m some kind of living advertisement for a funeral home?” Jon sighs. “But thanks, you’re the first person he brings around who doesn’t agree with it. As far as I’m concerned you passed the test with flying colors.”

“Thank you,” Loras says. “And if you’re not Jon you must be Robb. Hm.” Loras comes close, gives Robb a glance and then smirks. What the hell. “Somehow I’m not surprised Theon’s carried a torch for you for three months.”

Robb suddenly feels like sitting down. “ _Excuse me_?”

“Oh my God,” Ygritte says, “this should be good. Theon’s the downstairs neighbor, isn’t he? Please sit down, these assholes have no manners.”

“Why, thank you,” Loras says, sitting down on the small sofa they have in the living room.

Where he notices the brunch invitation on the window.

“Well,” he says, “now that’s interesting.”

“Sorry, how?” Robb asks, sitting in front of him. He wouldn’t dare stop Renly from taking the other spot in the sofa, giving how fast he takes it.

“I’ve known him for a while,” Loras says. “He works at that crap club now but two years or so ago, when he had just arrived from England, he waited tables at the place I tend bar at. Well, I also play some music to make ends meet, but it’s mainly that.”

Interesting. Robb needs to discuss it with him further, but he figures there’s no point in interrupting now. He also would like to know how the rest of this story goes.

“Let’s say that when he came to work there he was in a fairly shitty place, and he’s not totally out of it yet and it’s been years, but after a couple months of seeing each other around we started talking and well, let’s say half the reasons he came here in the first place are tied to this shit ex of his. Like, really the worst person you couldn’t begin to imagine. Which is why in all the time we’ve known each other he hasn’t hooked up with anyone for real. I mean, he’s slept around, but I doubt he’s ever invited anyone for lunch. You must have made an impression.”

“… I really didn’t do anything special?” Robb says helplessly.

“Good. He’s the kind of guy who can use people who don’t try to make an impression just because.”

Robb doesn’t know if he should ask what the fuck that meant, ask Ygritte why she seems to be finding this hilarious or to tell Renly to please tone down the obvious adoring way he’s staring at Loras, but eventually settles on clearing his throat and ask the question that had been nagging at him since Loras brought the topic up.

“And he’s been carrying a torch for me _how long_?”

“Well, if you were _the hot neighbor upstairs who almost never gets out of the apartment but is hella cute and sometimes plays music in the middle of the night_ then he’s been admitting it for three months at least. You want advice?”

“Er, sure?”

“Carrying torches is a waste of time and dancing around things is ever more so. Make up your mind but just be aware he wouldn’t be inviting you downstairs if he didn’t mean it.”

Well, given how cozy he and Renly are getting already Robb figures Loras is the kind of guy who takes his own advice.

And he’s still very much hung up on this _carrying a torch for three months_ detail.

“… Is there a chance yesterday he might have asked me for matches because he needed an excuse to flirt?”

Loras laughs. “He probably needed the matches, but he might have caught two birds with one stone.”

Fuck.

He can’t even remember the last time someone purposefully sought him out to flirt.

“Right,” he finally says. “I’ll – well, consider my options. Thanks for the heads up. And thanks for bringing this idiot back home in one piece. Next time he’d better remember the keys.”

“By the way,” Jon asks, “no hard feelings, but I imagine that if they mugged you they also stole that money you should have contributed to the electricity bills?”

At that, Loras legitimately smirks and Renly sends him another of those bordering on adoring looks.

“Well, they tried,” Renly said. “ _He_ showed up while it was happening, though.”

“Before you all start looking skeptical,” Loras says, “I’m a black belt in two different martial arts. I’ve never entered competitions just because I fell out with most of my family before I could and after then, well, who could afford it. I mean, if it had been for my grandmother and my siblings it wouldn’t have been a problem, but what can you do. Some people are backwards and just can’t accept that a guy might be into other guys and not give two fucks about wearing dresses when he feels like it.”

“… How many people were mugging you, Renly?” Ygritte asks.

“Four,” Renly replies, sounding way more smug than anyone who just was beat up in the middle of the road should.

“Okay,” Ygritte declares, “if you dealt with all four I’ll need lessons.”

“Whenever you want, darling.”

Yeah, fine, this Loras guy is definitely one in a million. For a moment Robb wants to be jealous because the way he and Renly are already getting cozy, it’s obvious that this was one of those lucky one in a million chances when you run into someone you could be happy with and you understand it the moment it happens. He’s not going to be the person who begrudges others’ happiness if it kills him, so he stands up and offers to make some more coffee and to put together something to eat – Loras pretty much saved them from another couple of weeks without electricity, he deserves at least breakfast on them.

As he goes around in the kitchen, he thinks about Theon’s brunch offer again.

Half of himself is telling him to decline the offer because the last thing he needs is a relationship when he’d risk getting the other person sick, never mind that he thinks he’s had enough blows in his life to handle another if it ends badly and he gets attached, and there’s nothing in his situation right now suggesting that they’ll ever move out of this dump or get some stability.

_Another half is telling him, aren’t you tired of waiting for the inevitable day when that bloody virus kicks in and you’ll see exactly how much longer you have to live?_

Who is he even kidding. He is tired.

He shakes his head and worries about breakfast – of course they don’t have coffee anymore and he doesn’t want to offer Loras any leftovers. Still, since both he and Jon still haven’t dumped the habit of drinking tea more than coffee at any other moment in the day, it’s the one thing they always never run out of. Ygritte always makes fun of their supposed… britishness – Robb usually replies that he’s not even fucking British – but now it’s coming in handy. He makes tea, with the best one they have around, finds some biscuits and some chocolate bars. It’s going to have to do since there’s nothing else that can be eaten at breakfast. Shit, someone should go buy some food – if he goes to pay the bill he might as well. He needs to get out more fucking often.

He puts everything on the only not chipped tray they have and brings it over.

“Hey,” he says, coming in the living room, “Loras, if you’d like I made some tea, it’s the least we could do.”

“Oh, thank you,” Loras replies, and –

Oh. Coming in, he hadn’t noticed that Jon and Ygritte left.

“Where are those other two?” He asks.

“Went to pay the bill,” Renly replies.

Robb glances at them – they’re holding hands, and they looked like they were having a fairly cozy conversation while he walked in. He swallows and puts the tray on the table.

He glances at their intertwined fingers and for a second he feels so alone and like the third wheel of the situation it almost makes him stagger. It never happened with Jon and Ygritte, but it might be that since he’s close to Jon in other ways he never really felt cut off. Right now –

Fuck it.

“Guys,” he says, “have fun and just take a refill or whatever. I have to reply to an invitation.”

“Good!” Both Loras and Renly shoot after him as he gets out of the window and into the balcony and walks downstairs – the emergency stairs bring him straight to Theon’s. The lights are dark inside, so he figures that he’s not in.

He breathes in and writes _YES_ on the frosted glass of the window, and then he heads into the street.

Maybe instead of calling the usual bars he plays at he can go talk to them in person.

\--

When he comes back, Jon and Ygritte are nowhere to be seen. Renly and Loras aren’t either but Robb hears enough noise from Renly’s room to guess that they’re in.

The invitation is gone from their window, though.

Now there’s another message reading _GREAT, SEE YOU IN THE MORNING WHENEVER YOU WANT._

Robb doesn’t want to feel anticipation, but he doesn’t have it in himself to kill that specific feeling.

\--

This is his third year here. The previous two, he always refused Renly, Jon and Ygritte when they invited him to go out for Christmas Eve – the first, it had been six months since he got clean for good and he didn’t really feel like being around people and the second he felt like his presence would have brought the mood down since he didn’t feel particularly festive (and he was thinking of the family Christmas he has been missing since his parents died).

This year, though, when they ask he says yes – fuck this noise. Loras is coming as well and Renly’s blathering about not needing presents from them this year since he thinks the universe just gave him a better one, Loras looks smitten in return and for once the atmosphere is uplifting enough that he’d feel bad saying no and being the one ruining it.

They go to the bar where Loras works – it’s his day off it seems, and he swears the food isn’t poisonous – and they end up exchanging what presents they had while waiting for their drinks. It’s a fairly sad affair in comparison to what he remembers from his childhood – back then, you’d have plenty presents for everyone, family members all around, carefully wrapped parcels; now, it’s nowhere as grand. It’s his turn first and he hands Renly a new hat and gloves that he bought at some thrift shop which were almost brand new (Renly tends to go through his own destroying a new pair every couple of months, so he could probably use more just in case). Then he apologizes to Loras for having nothing but Loras shrugs it off as he replies that he thinks he’s gotten a very nice present from the universe regardless, and while he and Renly proceed to make out three seconds later, Robb smiles and takes advantage of the moment to give his present to Jon and Ygritte – it’s better that it’s just the three of them.

He clears his throat. “So, this – this is for the both of you,” he says, reaching into his pocket. He’s thought long and hard about this, but – well. “I know that it might seem like I’m overstepping my boundaries, maybe, but – do you remember when our parents died, aunt Lysa pretty much put everything that was around the house in a box and locked it in her attic?”

“I remember,” Jon says, sadly.

“Well, I – the day before the funeral, I ran into their room because – I don’t even know why, and – I took a few things. I never told anyone and I never flaunted it.” Of course he didn’t – his aunt was very clear when it came to _not having anything to cry upon when it came to their parents_. Shit, that asshole really ruined her. “And – at times I thought I’d sell them but then it just seemed wrong.” He takes the small box out. “And – Jon, you don’t need to tell me, but I’ve known that you want to – oh, fuck this.” He opens the box and Jon gasps openly when he sees Ned and Catelyn Stark’s wedding rings resting inside it.

“Robb –”

“ _Jon_. I don’t know how long I’ll be around. And I know that if things go on like this no one in here will be able to afford to spend money on fucking rings, whoever wants to get married. For the day you want to get hitched for real, well – you can have these. Surely I won’t need any wedding ring anytime soon.”

“Jesus,” Jon says, looking close to tears. “Robb, are you sure –”

“Jon, I’m sure. If I ever want to, which is really doubtful, I have that old ring of uncle Brynden’s that he gave me for my birthday when I was fourteen or something and which I never showed anyone else.”

“What? I had no idea –”

“Well, I didn’t tell anyone for a reason. Really. You can have them.”

“Robb, now I’m never going to be able to tease you as much as I’d like,” Ygritte says, pretending to be hurt at it, and Robb lets out a breath of relief – good. It went fine.

“Wow,” Loras says, “you could do a lot worse when it comes to almost brothers in law, Ygritte.”

“Oh, I know that. Which is why we got you the useful present.”

Robb almost breaks down in tears when the three of them hand him enough AZT to last him at least a couple of months, which added to what he has right now means he doesn’t have to start asking around until late February. Not that it means he’ll live if things take a turn for the worse, but if they don’t then he doesn’t have to start worrying about it two weeks from now.

“Just in case,” Renly says as Robb pockets it, “that meant everyone wants you to stick around. If you die we’re going to be fucked to hell and back when it comes to paying the bills.”

“I’m so moved I could cry,” Robb says as he drinks his beer, and he lets out a small breath of relief when he sees Jon pocketing the box. Good. At least he knows his father would have approved of Jon having it and his mother would probably have rather seen it on someone’s finger than locked in Aunt Lysa’s attic.

\--

Then he sees that some candles are lit in Theon’s place as they come back home – or better, Renly isn’t because he went with Loras to his place so that they don’t _keep them up all night while celebrating_.

Robb knows the invitation wasn’t until tomorrow, but –

“Guys,” he says, “I think I’m – coming by later.”

Ygritte smirks. “Oh, you decided to go to _brunch_ early?”

“You’re hilarious. Maybe I did. You got a problem?”

“Please knock yourself out,” Jon says. “And see you in the morning. Wait a fucking moment.”

Given that Robb was the first person who bought Jon condoms – obviously hiding it from their guardians – it feels extremely embarrassing that Jon throws him a packet now.

“Jon, I don’t think –”

“If it happens at least you’re going to have them. Don’t do anything stupid,” he says, and then he and Ygritte head inside the building.

Well, fuck this.

He walks up the emergency stairs and knocks on the window after walking on Theon’s balcony.

Theon shows up a minute later, and for a moment it’s obvious he hadn’t been expecting Robb, but then he smiles the grin that makes one’s knees go fucking weak before opening the window.

“I think,” he says, “that you’re redefining the concept of showing up early.”

“Do you mind? Because if you do –”

“I don’t,” Theon says, moving so that Robb can climb inside. “Hell, I guess I lucked out when it came to getting presents this year.” And he winks again. Christ, Robb is going to need a lot of self-control here.

He takes a look around the apartment – it’s smaller than theirs, but it’s… sort of cozy? There’s posters taped on the wall, some books lying around, a quilt over the small battered sofa and there’s half-eaten dinner on the table that definitely wasn’t bought pre-made. Also 

“The heating works, or am I wrong?” Robb asks. The electricity definitely doesn’t.

“Ah, well,” Theon sighs, “it’s always a good excuse. Not that I needed to, since I guess you found out anyway.”

“I met a friend of yours,” Robb says, taking off his coat. Shit, it’s old. He should buy a new one. Maybe. Who even has the money.

“Really? Who?”

“Loras,” Robb says, and Theon groans.

“Let me guess, he told you –”

“That yesterday you might have asked me to _light your candle_ not just because you needed matches but because you had been wanting some excuse to talk to me?”

“Shit, he really needs to learn to shut his mouth. And how would you know him?”

“I think he and my roommate are an item. Since last night. But that’s not the point.” Robb sighs. “You know, I’m flattered.”

“Sorry?”

He shrugs. “It had been a long time since someone tried to flirt with me. I’m really not a good prospect these days.”

“I don’t know,” Theon says, slowly. “I’ve seen worse. Plenty worse.”

“Listen,” Robb sighs, figuring it’s better to say it before either of them gets really involved, “I figured it was probably better to get a few things said before… brunch. I mean. Some of the reasons why I don’t think I’m a good prospect. For one –”

He never finishes it because he hears a timer beep.

What the fuck? He’s sure it hasn’t been eight hours since his last AZT dose, is it malfunctioning or –

“Ah, damn,” Theon says, “excuse me a moment.”

Oh. It’s his timer, Robb sees as he lifts his shirt up, shuts it off and heads for a cupboard.

“No problem,” Robb says, and shows his off when Theon has swallowed the pills and turns back towards him.

“… I imagine _that_ was one of… the reasons?” Theon asks.

“Yeah,” Robb says. “I don’t exactly look for relationships because – well. I wouldn’t want to ruin someone else’s life.”

“Don’t you worry,” Theon says, and that sounded bitter. “When it comes to that, mine’s plenty ruined already. Can I ask how or is that too soon?”

Robb laughs – as if. How. It ended on a few music magazines back in the day. If that was what he minded.

“I imagine you weren’t into my scene back in England.”

“Your scene?”

“I was in a rock band. Not huge or anything, but we made a couple record. Enough that for the second one we even shot a videoclip.”

“Seriously? What was the name.”

“The Young Wolves. I know, horrible. But we all came from this small town in Ireland and we had some of them in the area, it seemed a decent choice back then. Anyway, we arrived in London trying to make it big, played a few bars and – this _ancient_ creepy Walder Frey guy who worked for a label approaches us. We were young and stupid and thought we made it, so other than giving us a crappy contract he also was our manager and he only dealt with the money and the likes.” He sighs. “At that point my family kind of cut me off and Jon before me – he was in the US already. Guy got us to try heroin out. My bandmates fell into it worse than I did, but – well. Dirty needles. You know how it works.”

“Shit,” Theon says.

“Yeah, _shit._ I got lucky. They didn’t. Three people, all dead within six months. I sold off the rights I had to whatever music I recorded for them just so that I could get away, I spent most of it trying to get clean and the moment I was – well, I was in contact with Jon –”

“Who, dark, sour and broody who lives with you?”

Robb laughs – it wasn’t nice but… okay, he can see the reasoning. “Yeah. He’s my cousin, but we’ve always been more like brothers than anything else. He was living here already and he said I could come, so – I spent the last of my money on a one-way ticket. I doubt I’m going back anytime soon.”

“Neither am I,” Theon sighs. “Damn. Hearing that story I feel like an idiot.”

“Why’s that?” Robb suspects the reasons, but maybe he wants to hear it out.

“Well,” Theon says, “let’s say that at least you can blame it on the manager. I can blame it on how much of an idiot I was when I was twenty. I might have also been thrown out. Let’s just say my father was an asshole. I met this guy in a bar I was working at and – he was bad news.”

“How bad?”

Theon shrugs and raises up his shirt. Robb blanches when he sees what looks like a fairly deep knife would trailing all over Theon’s stomach. “Good thing I get to put make-up on that when I take off my clothes. Or that people find it _sexy_.” That last word is pronounced with enough distaste Robb almost flinches at the tone. “Anyway, I wish it was the problem. Fucker didn’t let me leave the house without him for years and I was too young and stupid to get out of it.”

He shrugs. “And by the time he asked me to shoot up with him I couldn’t say no.”

Robb stares in abject horror – shit, he’s feeling sick just thinking about it.

“Anyway. I don’t know if he also got sick thanks to a dirty needle or not, but by the time he found out he was positive it didn’t really matter anymore. And I couldn’t even dump him even if by that point I only wanted to get the fuck out because I had nowhere to go. I got a stroke of luck because at some point when the asshole really needed money to afford _his_ medication he had to call his family. His brother showed up, not a bad guy, and – I begged him to tell me some way I could get out. The guy says that he knows his brother’s a nutjob but he hadn’t realized he actually was in any kind of relationship, gave me enough money to get out of that damned house and take a train to London and possibly find an apartment with the small print that I was going to not say a word to anyone. The family name, y’know. I took it.” He sighs. “Then I figured putting an ocean in between us wasn’t a bad idea. I’ve been doing decently. Not counting that I haven’t quite managed to kick the habit.”

“How – can I ask how long?”

“I was with the asshole for five years,” Theon sighs. “I’ve been here for two.”

“Well, you aren’t looking too bad, all things considered.”

“Flatterer. Anyway, how long ago was your band a thing? I mean, I did spend some time in London, even if the fucker didn’t let me go out much.”

“I think _I_ am looking bad for my age,” Robb sighs.

“Sorry?”

“I’m twenty-three,” Robb replies.

For a moment, Theon stares at him as if he honestly can’t believe it. “How,” he says a moment later. “I mean, fuck, you said you’ve been clean for how long?”

“This is the third year. I told you we were very young and very stupid. I left when I was eighteen and it was all done and over within two years.”

“Fuck,” Theon says. “Well, you looked –”

“Around your age? Man, the time I wasn’t recording music I was on tour, when I was on tour I was shooting up – not that much in comparison to everyone else, but enough – and they squeezed us like lemons when it came to make money out of those two records. That takes a toll on you. Anyway, why is it that you said you had been an idiot?”

Theon shrugs. “Well, I got that yesterday, I guess, but still – you aren’t shooting up. As stated, it’s been one habit I haven’t managed to kick yet – I don’t have that many friends and when you’re on your own it gets harder to let it go. I doubt you wanna be around someone who is shooting up.”

Thing is, if he hadn’t cared for it maybe Robb would have had second thoughts.

He should be having second thoughts.

He takes in a deep breath.

“Listen, I like you.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I _like_ you. What can I say, your completely weirdass approach did work at the end of it. Some part of me is saying that I should say thanks and leave, but I’m tired, I haven’t been with anyone in years, I know the three people who are around me think that I need to get some human contact before I waste away in that bloody apartment and – I don’t know if I want to leave.”

“You – you don’t?”

Shit, now Theon sounds _hopeful_.

Robb thinks he’s not going to be able to resist, not when it’s been years since anyone’s looked at him like Theon is right now.

He moves closer.

“Let’s make a deal,” Robb says.

“I’m all ears.”

“I don’t want to see smack lying around when I’m here. I don’t want it in my apartment. I’m nowhere near interested in taking it back up. If you think you can handle keeping that away from me then I think I can handle anything you throw at me.”

Well, it’s definitely been years since anyone’s looked at Robb as if he was making them the best proposal they ever heard in their life.

“I – I think I can handle it,” Theon says, and now he sounds like he can’t believe that Robb’s actually agreeing to it.

“Okay,” Robb says, “then we give it a try and see how it goes. Now,” he says, moving closer, and now they’re almost touching. “There’s just one question left.”

“And that’d be?”

“You want me to get out and come back in the morning or should I just say until it’s brunch time?”

There’s something in the way Theon smiles spontaneously after Robb says it that his heart skips a few beats.

“Didn’t we say you were early?”

Robb hasn’t kissed anyone in years. But now that he’s moving a hand behind Theon’s head and bringing their mouths closer together, it almost feels like he has never quite forgotten how this works, and he thought he did.

Theon’s lips are warm when Robb’s touch them, and Robb thinks, _maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea_.

He doesn’t know where they’ll be in a year, if they’ll even be alive in a year and whether this is going to fire back against them in a long run, but –

But for now he finds out, to his utter relief, that he can’t fucking care less.


	2. give in to love or live in fear

2\. _spring_

 

“How much are we missing?” Jon asks as Ygritte counts their money.

“Thirty,” she sighs. “Sometimes I curse the moment Renly moved out, then I see how those two are disgustingly made for each other and I feel like a horribly cynical old lady.”

Robb almost expects her to ask _the_ question, but thankfully she doesn’t.

Thing is, they took it very slow. Extremely slow. A lot more than Robb’s usual _before_ , but given that he hasn’t been in a relationship in years and Theon hasn’t either but the previous one was with the horrid ex who ruined his life – hell, there’s a reason why it took them two months to actually get naked in front of each other. And thing is, Theon’s taken his conditions to the letter. He could ask him to move in, but one thing is that they’re on different floors and he can pretend the whole thing with the heroin doesn’t exist, another thing would be to have that shit around the house. He has a feeling Jon and Ygritte wouldn’t mind anything if someone else was contributing to the bills money, they’ve been pretty tight these last couple months, but –

Maybe not just now.

If only he had the guts to bring it up, but taking it slow has meant that things are actually going well and he doesn’t want to jinx it.

Robb thinks he does have a thirty in his stash of money he saves for meds, but it’s the end of April and he’s almost out of AZT because they skipped the monthly distribution at the free clinic and he usually relies on that for a good half of his doses.

“Guys, I think I have some –”

“Robb, if it’s meds money I don’t want to hear it,” Jon interrupts.

Ygritte gives Robb a look. “You think that if we drag Loras into it to worry about the rhythm section, you play guitar and I sing, someone at your usual bars would consider paying us substantially for it?”

Robb thinks about it. “I don’t know, most places want me for folk covers and that shit. And I can’t play my old stuff – I mean, I don’t want to but even if I did if someone from the record company ever finds out I’d get fined. If you think you can make a decent Joan Baez impression and you swear to hell and back that they get at least ten paying customers for each of us, maybe it’s doable.”

“I can find more than ten paying customers. I’m fairly sure Loras can too, _especially_ if he manages to get his sister involved. I’ll call him, if he agrees just give it a try.”

Loras does agree and Robb goes out to talk to the club’s manager – going out more was one of his New Year’s resolutions, wasn’t it?

Miraculously, the guy agrees and he even had a free spot on Saturday night. He’s not paying much and they obviously won’t get a single dime out of what the paying customers spend, but anyway it’d cover the missing electricity money and leave some left for when the next one arrives.

Christ, how much he wishes they didn’t have to deal with this shit day to day.

On his way back, he drops by the free clinic – no free distribution for the next two weeks, apparently – and knocks on the downstairs window after climbing the emergency stairs. Theon’s in, but then again he never works late in the morning.

“To what do I owe this social call?” Theon asks, grinning in that way that always gets Robb’s heart beating at twice the speed.

“Uhm. Saturday evening, we’re playing some stuff over at that pub three blocks from here. Ygritte, Loras and yours truly. I don’t know if you’re working but if you wanted to drop by…”

“Are you asking because you need audience?”

“I think the other two have that covered. No, I’m asking because I never take you out and maybe it’s time I do. I feel like an underachiever here.”

“Why,” Theon says, “when you sweet talk me like that, I just might. And why are you three joining forces?”

“Bills,” Robb shrugs. Theon looks at it knowingly and for a moment Robb feels like shit, but –

“Noble reason,” Theon replies. “So, you wanna come in for a late brunch or you’re going to make me listen to you and Ygritte practicing all afternoon?”

“That was the idea,” Robb says, “but we can practice after _brunch_.”

“Good,” Theon says, and lets Robb come in.

Well, they dodged that bullet again. He doesn’t know how long it’s going to take until they can’t avoid the elephant in the room anymore, but he’s sure as hell going to try and delay that moment as long as it takes.

\--

The good news is that Loras does get his sister involved – he did say that he hasn’t fallen out of contact with all of his family. Which means that the pub is completely packed. Margaery certainly doesn’t fuck around when it comes to helping her brother out, and she knows more people than all of them put together. Loras shows up in what are definitely Renly’s clothes and a flower crown that clashes with said attire in a spectacular way, but given their setlist (it’s all folk revival songs) it’s somewhat appropriate. He has the hair to pull it off.

No one is surprised to hear that, according to the two of them at least, it comes from flowers Renly grabbed in Central Park even if you’re not supposed to pluck them. They looked fresh, after all. The fact that Renly learned to make flower crowns in the first place doesn’t really surprise anyone. The fact that after the show they’re mooning at each other worse than the day they met doesn’t either – Margaery, who’s sitting with them for the evening, casually tells Renly that if they ever want to fuck with the rest of the family she’s more than willing to pretend she’s his girlfriend.

Everyone laughs at that even if Renly politely refuses to take her up on that offer, but Robb has seen the way Jon looks at Ygritte when he hears the proposal.

Robb has a feeling he might actually dust off those rings one of these days and propose already.

Meanwhile Theon’s looking at Loras and Renly in a way that Robb can’t quite decipher, and for a moment even if they’re holding hands he feels as if they’re on two different planets.

It’s over and gone in a few seconds, though, and Robb figures lingering on it isn’t worth it.

\--

They pay the bills. A week or so later, Theon asks him if he wants to take a walk in the park and that he has something to ask.

Robb is halfway sure that he felt what he is feeling as well and he might want to take a break or something like that, but of course he agrees.

It’s a lovely, sunny day. The sky is clear blue, the flowers are in bloom, it’s warm enough that he only needs a light jacket and it’s really, really not the day anyone would want to break up on. He hopes that he read the situation wrong, also because he knows it’s not what he wants. Hell, if it were for him he’d want more than they have right now, but – can they? With these premises?

Shit, he knew that when it comes to heroin at some point every relationship comes down to what matters most in between the smack and the other person. That was why he shouldn’t have gone with it, but in retrospective… it’s been good. They’ve been as happy as two people taking it slow can get.

Shit, what a mess. He’s about to check the hour for the umpteenth time when he sees Theon coming running from the other side of the streets. He looks like someone who hasn’t slept and when he comes up to where Robb is, he can see that he has shadows of bags under his eyes that weren’t there when they saw each other a few days ago.

For a moment he thinks, _he’s high_ , but then – no, his eyes are clear.

“Hey,” he says, “everything all right?”

“Depends,” Theon replies. He even sounds jittery. “Can – can we go in?”

“Sure.” Robb says nothing as they get out of the streetwalk and Theon doesn’t start talking until he finds a bench no one’s sitting at and which is not surrounded by children or – well, many people in the first place. He heads there and sits, looking down at his shaking hands, and then he turns and gives Robb a look that – he looks halfway determined and halfway scared shitless.

“Theon, if something’s wrong –”

“Well, yeah, but – okay, listen, I think we have a problem.”

Of course. “I figured that was what you were wanting to talk about.”

“I did, and – listen, I know you’re not saying it because you’re too nice and you don’t want to jinx things, and I appreciate that, but I need you to put it in the open.”

Okay, that’s – not breaking up. And it’s fair. “Fine. Listen, things haven’t changed. I still _like_ you. Hell, more than like you. I think we have a good thing. I don’t want it to end. I might want to bring it further. Hell, not might, I want to, but I don’t know if I can live with heroin around me on a permanent basis. It fucked up my life for good and I can’t go back to it. I didn’t even like it while I was doing it, damn it. And I can’t watch anyone else I love die because of it. That’s the one reason why I haven’t asked anything else of you.”

Theon nods and rubs his hands together. “Right. Fair. I mean, I can’t fault you for that. I suspected it.”

He stops. Then he takes a breath. “I might have tried to quit.”

_What_?

“Sorry?”

“ _Tried_ being the key word. I usually do it once every three days or so. I went five without and it didn’t work. I had some around and – I mean, I’m looking like this because I relented yesterday night and I’m still not back to the usual.”

“You could have said –”

“Yeah, I didn’t want you to be around it. But – okay, thing is, when I told you it was the one habit I couldn’t quite kick yet, it was also because other than our common friend who can pull off flower crowns I didn’t have a huge crowd to surround myself with before we met and I was on my own in a bloody foreign country, I guess I needed it to cope. Whatever. I have Ramsay to thank for being sick and for the heroin, and while I can’t get rid of the first, now it feels like if I can’t kick the habit I’m just dragging some piece of that asshole with me, and it’s eventually going to ruin whatever decent thing I have going for me. Which – I’m sure fucking Ramsay would be thrilled to hear it, wherever he ended up. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.”

“Do you want help?” Robb asks, not even pondering if he shouldn’t have waited for Theon to finish. He has a feeling he knows where this is going and Theon’s looking so worried about it, he might as well put him out of his misery.

“The hell – how did you guess –”

“Was fairly logical.”

“Well, since _you_ kicked it I figured you could give me a few pointers.”

Robb almost feels ice cold as he remembers how it had gone.

Since he sold the rights for cheap and he needed money for the plane ticket, which was not cheap at all, he couldn’t afford rehab before leaving, but he also didn’t want to get to Jon’s place without getting clean first. So, he rented a small apartment for three weeks making sure that the heating was included in the price, bought what food he knew he’d need, stocked up on water and spent the next couple of weeks throwing up, shivering even if he had ten blankets over him, smelling like death and cursing Walder Frey every moment he wasn’t too busy washing his clothes, fighting off nausea and – in desperate moments – trying to call home just to be disconnected every other damned time.

“Well,” Robb says, “You said you had gone two days without it before caving, so let me guess – you were feeling too hot or too cold every other moment, you felt thirsty all the time, you felt tired when you had no reason to, maybe you couldn’t sleep, you’d sweat for nothing and maybe your skin would crawl without you knowing why?”

“… Pretty much.”

“That’s not even the beginning,” Robb sighs. “If you hold on _that_ turns into vomiting, cramping for a hell of a long time, feeling too cold all of the time. You’ll feel nauseous for days and you’ll be lucky if the point when you’ll get adjusted to the smell of your own shit never arrives. Also, we were both on it for long enough – there’s no way you get over it before at least ten days. Took me two weeks and it was completely fucking miserable. The only good thing was that I had locked myself inside the apartment and I didn’t know anyone who’d come by. Which meant I had no way to get someone else to buy some for me.”

Theon’s face is so pale Robb almost thinks he’ll faint. “Christ,” he says. “No wonder he didn’t try to get me hooked on fucking weed.”

“Sounds like a proper piece of shit,” Robb agrees. “Anyway, if it’s what you want – well, I doubt any of us can afford alternate meds. You’d have to go cold turkey. Which is what I did. And I know going cold turkey is horrible. So – do you want me to move in with you while you do it?”

“I don’t – wait, _what_?”

“Theon, I just told you that if it wasn’t for the fucking heroin I’d have asked you to move in with us a long time ago. Going cold turkey is a lot less bad if you have someone easing you through it and you don’t want it to be someone who doesn’t know how it works.”

“Why – why’s that?”

“Because you will have mood swings, you will say shit you regret, you will feel horrible and you will purposefully try to get them mad. I would have done all of that if I had had anyone to lash at. And you’ll need someone to make sure you don’t relapse or try to go out and buy some more. Never mind that I wasn’t on AZT when I was quitting. _You_ are. Someone needs to make sure you take it.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” Theon says.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Okay? Don’t worry, I’ll still want to be around you after. I know how it is. And after that concert, I had enough leftover money that I can avoid playing for the next couple weeks.”

Theon closes his eyes and thinks about it for a short while, and then his fingers are gripping Robb’s tight enough to hurt.

“Fine. Fine. I guess we should –”

“Am I the officially designated person who knows how this works?” Robb interrupts.

“I guess?”

“Then now we’re going to take a nice walk, we’re stopping and eating something we both like, we’re not going to think about it and – do you need to tell people at work that –”

“Whatever. It’s not as if they pay me for sick days. I warned the owner last day and he said that if I wanted to come back I just need to show up.”

“Okay, then after we’ve had a _nice_ day we’re buying some food you might use and then we’re going to yours, you’re telling me where is all your stuff, I’m going downstairs and see if I can exchange it for meds –”

“What?”

“You paid for it. Flushing it down the toilet might feel very definitive and dramatic and so on, but it’s a waste of money and we actually need meds to live. If it doesn’t work I guess flushing it is. Then – well. Then we don’t talk about the next two weeks and I disregard everything you say and you swear you won’t hate me for doing a lot of things you’ll hate me for.”

“Christ. Okay. Fine. You know, the one thing that isn’t making me want to run for the hills is that if you came out of it that well, maybe there’s half a chance in hell I might.”

“Why, stop being a flatterer and let’s go take a walk. I’m not plucking flowers to make you flower crowns, though.”

“Oh, shut it,” Theon says, but he’s smiling and he’s not shaking as badly anymore.

Well then. It definitely wasn’t a break-up call.

Robb thinks he’d take helping anyone through ten withdrawals if it meant that it wasn’t one and he’s not thinking back on it anytime soon.

\--

“You,” Renly says, staring straight at Robb, “look like shit. You, instead,” he goes on, looking at Theon, “look like _complete_ shit.”

“Wow, thank you,” Robb quips as Loras punches Renly in the side.

“Renly, that was fairly unfair of –”

“Let me fucking finish, damn you. I wasn’t done. I was saying, no one is surprised at it, given what you just resurfaced from, and I was going to say that if you want to go out to celebrate the end of your quarantine I was willing to buy the first round, but if that’s how you put it –”

“Okay, that’s better,” Loras says approvingly.

“I might take you up on it,” Theon says, and Robb isn’t surprised at how hoarse he sounds. He also sounds hoarse. Their throats haven’t recovered from the only huge screaming match they had on day eight of the process, but Robb’s relieved it just happened once. It’s a miracle, really. “But nothing alcoholic. Tears me apart to say it but I don’t think I can’t handle that stuff for a while. _He_ deserves the good kind, though.”

“Why, thanks,” Robb says, “I think I could use it.”

“Then it’s decided. Come on, we’re going.”

“Now?” Theon asks.

“His cousin said he needed the place to himself for some reason. Can’t imagine which.”

Loras shakes his head in amusement. “As if. We’d better start thinking about wedding presents.” He stands up and pulls a light blue jacket over the equally blue knee-length dress he has on – Robb is sure he saw it on Margaery once but honest, it looks better on him. “So, you coming?”

He smiles as Theon’s hand grabs his – he’s not putting much strength into it, but then again he’s coming from two weeks of surviving on either sweet stuff or whatever halfway decent vegetables and fruit Robb could find without having to spend a ridiculous amount of money they don’t have. He doesn’t have much strength to put into anything.

“Sure,” Robb says, “of course we are.”


	3. (with a thousand sweet kisses) I'll cover you

3\. _summer_

 

Robb’s twenty-fourth birthday falls on a Sunday. It’s early August, it ended up being one of those days when it’s so hot your clothes stick to your skin and you feel perpetually thirsty, and for some reason the neighborhood feels – empty, somehow. It doesn’t happen often, after all usually at least enough drug dealers are around to kill that notion, but maybe it’s too hot even for them. He doesn’t know. What he knows is that he might be sweating also because Theon has his back pressed to Robb’s chest and it’s certainly not helping with the heat, but he’s not going to move anytime soon.

Hell, no.

The hell they went through in May was entirely worth Theon moving in and getting to do this every other morning when Theon doesn’t have the shift that ends at ten AM. He hadn’t known how much he had missed sleeping _with_ someone until he had it back, and for a moment he basks in the moment. After all, he’s been through worse heat than this. The room is warm and there’s sun coming in, Theon’s breathing regularly and he hasn’t slept badly as he sometimes does, no one has barged in yet waking them up and telling Robb that you don’t spend your birthday oversleeping, and – it’s good. He closes his eyes, wondering if he can steal another ten minutes of sleep –

And then both their timers start beeping.

Right. They slowly made it work so that their eight-hour break would fall at the same time and while it’s probably very fucking morbid to think that taking AZT together it’s a relationship goal or something of the kind… well, before it just felt miserable, now it does but less.

“What,” Theon groans, blinking his eyes open. “Ah, right. D’you have it?”

“Yeah,” Robb says, reaching into his nightstand drawer and taking out both of their doses. “Here.” Theon takes his, they look at each other and swallow at the same time.

“Cheers,” Theon mutters. “And happy birthday.”

“Started it with the right foot, right?” Robb asks. Theon laughs, inching closer.

“Well, yeah, I imagine swallowing life-saving medication might qualify. But I think I have a better idea.”

“Really. I’m all ears,” Robb says, and Theon grins as he leans towards his nightstand and throws Robb a condom.

“Now _this_ would mean starting with the right foot.”

“I can be persuaded,” Robb says, taking off his pajama pants and underwear. They haven’t had sex until late June because of bloody withdrawal effects, but since Theon came up to him, said that _he finally felt like it again, thank fuck_ , and slammed him against the door to kiss him stupid they’ve been making up for lost time in spades. He rolls it on, he was half-hard anyway as he is every morning (and good thing being positive hasn’t taken _that_ from him), and then leans back down as Theon moves on his back and spreads his legs a tiny bit.

“Why,” Robb says, “if this is my present I can be fine with it.”

“This isn’t your present,” Theon retorts, “since it’s nothing special, but if you want to think it’s one, you can unwrap it at your leisure.”

“Well then, no reason to stall.”

When Robb leans down and kisses him, Theon kisses back at once, one of his calves hooking around the back of Robb’s leg – he’s warm, Robb thinks, and for a moment he appreciates how he filled out in the last months after going cold turkey had left him a bit gaunter than before. But like this – with slightly tanned skin, dark hair spread all over the pillow and dark eyes staring up at him with absolute _intent_ – you couldn’t say that he has a ticking time bomb running in his veins.

Hell, he has to admit that these days you couldn’t say Robb has the same ticking time bomb doing the exact same thing. He doesn’t hold out much hope that it will last as long as he’d like, but he doesn’t feel like he’s waiting for his inevitable demise these days.

He stops thinking about it and puts his hands on Theon’s wrists, pinning them delicately to the mattress – Theon moans into his mouth, and Robb can feel him grow harder against his stomach. “Hm,” he says, leaning back, “want me to keep my hands there while –”

“Yes,” Theon replies at once.

Well then. “Who am I to deny that then?” He tightens his grip a tiny bit before leaning down and kissing his way down Theon’s throat and to his shoulder. “Then just keep them there for a moment.”

He lets Theon’s wrists go and he does keep them still, and shit but Robb is never going to get over how much Theon likes it when he starts running the show – it’s not that he fears he’ll send him into a power trip one day, but it’s hot in a way he can’t quite put into words.

Robb moves backwards, reaching for the other drawer where he keeps the lube. He grabs it, puts some on the tip of his fingers and when Theon opens his legs wider he reaches for his own pillow, moves it under Theon’s hips, and then slides both fingers in slowly. They do it often enough that he doesn’t have to start off with just one and Theon likes it slightly rough, so he slides them in a few times, enough to not make it painful but leaving his way in a bit tight. He pours some more lube into his hand and coats himself up, and then he wipes his dirty hand on the sheet and positions himself.

“Should I?” He says, his hands going to Theon’s wrists again, delicately.

“Fuck, yes,” Theon blurts, and Robb pushes inside slowly as he presses Theon’s wrists tighter against the mattress. As predicted, he slides in smoothly enough but not fast, not when it’s a tight fit, and at that Theon moans out loud enough that if Jon and Ygritte weren’t awake before they sure as fuck are now.

“Good?” Robb asks, his mouth hovering over Theon’s ear.

“Yeah,” Theon agrees, “but – you can – _harder_.”

“Best birthday ever,” Robb grins, and cants his hips downwards as he tightens his grip. Theon’s breathing so very fast and his cheeks are reddening, and there’s a healthy flush all over his face right now. There’s sweat sticking to his forehead and his pupils are blown for very good reasons, and Robb doesn’t think that either of them will last much longer but then again they’ll have time to go at it again in the evening if not sooner. For now –

For now he moves back and then slides back in with the hardest push he can muster and he feels his own release building to the point that he can’t hold in anymore, and so he doesn’t, and at that point he feels Theon go slightly rigid before he relaxes all at once and comes a moment later. Robb can feel the stickiness of it all over his stomach as he tries to not drop too strongly all over the poor guy – instead he tries to ease himself down. He feels _good_ , he thinks as he opts to slide out and get rid of the condom – Theon makes a noise of protest, but the moment he’s thrown it in the trash Robb moves back over him, smoothing hair out of his forehead and moving his hands down to the sides of Theon’s face. Theon leans into it at once and Robb just kisses him slow and easy as he feels Theon’s hands reach up for his waist. He grabs one of them before it reaches it, his fingers wrapping around Theon’s wrist.

He glances at the needle marks along Theon’s arm – some are white (like all of his), some aren’t, but none is fresh red or purple or worse – and kisses the beginning of one that starts from the wrist and ends halfway to the elbow as he moves to the side so he can lie down on the bed.

“Damn,” Theon says, sounding like he just ran a marathon, “you’re unfair.”

“I don’t know,” Robb says, “you should see your own face. That’s unfair.”

“Are you two done being horribly sappy together?” Ygritte shouts from outside the door. “And more important than that, are you decent so I can come in and drag you out for breakfast, or are you coming out on your own before it gets cold?”

“Never,” Robb shouts back. “Also no we aren’t decent, and yes we’re coming out ourselves.”

“As long as you do!”

“Shit,” Robb whispers, “we really must have been loud. Best present ever, really.”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t even a present,” Theon replies. “And I could say the same, except that it’s not my birthday and you’re exaggerating.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Robb says, suddenly needing to put it in the open. “Listen, a year ago I was sure I wasn’t going to live until the next one for some reason. Like, I was feeling like there was no way I’d last another winter and I was just hoping I could put enough money together so Jon could pay for my damned funeral. The other side of the bed was empty and I was bloody miserable. Now, well, I can see myself wanting to stick around for a while especially if it means you’re sticking around with me. That’s what I meant when I said it was the best present ever. Got it?”

For a moment, Theon looks at him as if he’s completely fucking speechless, but then he just gives Robb a firm, tiny nod.

“Got it,” he says, and leans back to kiss Robb again.

Breakfast is sort of cold when they finally leave the room but Ygritte doesn’t complain too much as she heats it up all over again and Robb decides that if next year everything has gone to shit – well, who cares. He’s had this. It’s good enough.

(Turns out, his >true presents all consists in more AZT. Robb doesn’t even hold back the few tears that escape him, and when Loras tells the others that at least on Christmas one of them should give him something else just for variety, he replies that he’s all for actually useful presents. Everyone laughs and Robb dares hoping that he might really see some light at the end of this tunnel if he has enough of this shit to keep going until something better comes along.)


	4. forget regret, or life is your to miss

4\. _autumn_

 

Jon and Ygritte get married on Halloween.

When they tell them, Renly asks if they had decided to be purposefully morbid when it came to it and Ygritte replies with “No, asshole, but it was the only day when they had a free spot before next fucking year.”

Robb is explicitly forbidden from buying any present, given that he provided the rings and that he’s Jon’s best man by default. He makes up for it by begging Jon to take his suit for good – he had one he had used for meeting the record company higher-ups and that he brought with because he didn’t have that many clothes on his back and he figured he could pawn it if it came down to needing it. He never had but he also knows he’ll never wear it again, and Jon relents when Robb tells him that really, they already don’t have much to make the day special and he’ll be damned before he lets Jon get married in his regular clothes.

“Well, at least one of them is set,” Renly declares when they share the news at dinner – they’re over at his and Loras’s place. By now Robb thinks Renly’s name has to be on the lease. “And the bride?”

Ygritte flips him off. “As if I need a _white dress_. Please. It’s all bullshit anyway. Okay, guess that when I was fifteen I thought it’d be cool to wear anything else other than white if I ever got married, but honest, given the circumstances, who even cares about the dress. It’s enough that we have the rings.”

“What color were you thinking?” Theon says, and everyone in the room turns to stare at him.

“Sorry?” Ygritte asks.

“I might have never shared,” Theon says, and oh, Robb thinks he knows what’s about to happen. “I mean, Robb knows, but – before my life went to complete shit, I was going to fashion school.”

“You _what_?” Jon asks, almost spitting his coffee.

“Yeah, got a problem with it? Anyway, I had to quit, but I mean, you want a dress, I can make you one. Or if you find one that doesn’t fit I can work on it.”

“You’re serious,” Ygritte says a moment later, staring at him.

“Well, yes? I can barely afford my own meds so I can’t make you a _wedding present_ , and given that I live with you and I doubt it’s going to change anytime soon I’d like to contribute. So, what color were you thinking? Don’t say black. Getting married on Halloween is bad enough.”

“It’s still not a goddamned funeral,” Ygritte says. “Anyway, actually I was thinking green. I don’t have a dress, but –”

“I think I solved our presents dilemma,” Loras interrupts.

“Sorry?”

He smirks. “Do you think my sister doesn’t give me all the clothes she doesn’t wear anymore? I have a closet full of green clothes. Just pick whichever you like best, there should be something than fits you. He can smooth out creases and the likes.”

“Sounds perfect,” Theon agrees, mock-shaking hands with Loras as Ygritte stares at them obviously without any immediate retort coming to her.

“Shit,” she says, “thank you, damn it. I didn’t even – never mind. Okay. Show me your fucking dresses.”

The three of them head for Loras’s room and Jon lets out a long breath of relief. “Okay,” he says, “I’m gonna have to re-evaluate your boyfriend, he’s not only good when it comes to help out with the bills.”

Robb punches him in the side. “Come on,” he says, “he’s not that bad.”

“For _you_ , certainly not. Anyway, she should at least get a decent dress, so – I’ll thank him later.”

Eventually, she picks an imperial style dark green dress that goes really nicely with her hair and eyes. Theon adjusts it adding a bow to the waist and long sleeves (they use fabric from another old dress of Loras’s that he definitely wouldn’t wear and that Margaery doesn’t either) and mending a small tear in the back. At the end, it’s not a dress anyone would find at a shop only selling wedding attire, but it looks new and it’s definitely nothing like Ygritte’s usual jeans and plaid shirts.

A month before the wedding, Robb buys a few envelopes and writes a couple of letters. He does it already knowing it’ll be a waste of money to send them over to the other side of the Atlantic, but damn it to hell and back, Jon deserves to have someone from the family there and he doubts that they won’t get burned, but –

He has to try. He sends one to his uncle, hoping he hasn’t changed address, and one to Aunt Lysa – that one will get destroyed, he knows, but – hell. He has to try.

Both letters only read _Jon is getting married on the 31st at three in the afternoon, if anyone wants to attend or send a letter this is the address_.

In the morning of the 31st, no one has replied. Their small group heads for the courthouse at lunch time – Jon is wearing the suit (Theon fit that, too, and Jon’s definitely changed his mind about Theon’s supposed usefulness to anyone other than Robb or so it seems), Ygritte looks amazing in the not-white dress, Loras and Renly came with matching fucking outfits (okay, Loras’s is another dress, but they’re both the same shade of burgundy), a few of Ygritte’s coworkers also showed up and Robb’s feeling completely underdressed since he has on his regular things. At least Theon is in his same boat. Ygritte’s best woman is Gilly, a friend of hers from high school that came straight from their hometown (it’s some hellhole of a village somewhere in Nebraska or so Robb recalls, Ygritte almost never talks about where she comes from on the grounds that she loathes the place), and Robb hands her his mother’s ring after they introduce themselves. He keeps his father’s and at that point they only have to wait for their turn.

And then at two thirty he hears a voice he hasn’t heard in years asking for directions to this specific wedding from the floor below (they’re waiting near the stairs).

He tells the others to wait, no one seems to have noticed, and runs downstairs.

To find himself face to face with both his great-uncle and Arya.

Or at least he thinks it’s Arya, he hasn’t seen her in years, but –

“Robb?” She asks, her eyes going wide.

“Arya? Shit, how fucking tall did you –”

He never finishes because she’s thrown her arms around his neck first and fine, if he dies out of being hugged to death… he can think of worse ways to go. He hugs her back and thinks that maybe, maybe he actually did manage to give Jon the one wedding present he deserved.

“Where is Jon?” She asks as she lets him go.

“Upstairs,” Robb says. “Don’t ruin his suit. Other than that, knock yourself out. We can catch up later.”

She nods and runs upstairs – that leaves Robb with Uncle Brynden, who looks halfway smug and halfway sad.

“Hey,” he says, “long time no see.”

“Yeah,” Robb agrees. “I never tried to write because you weren’t even in Ireland last time I was there and I didn’t even know if you’d ever come back, but I see I should’ve.”

“Given that I only came back last year, it wouldn’t have helped I think.”

“Well, you did get my letter when it mattered. I imagine Arya’s here because you smuggled her out?”

“Pretty much. Your aunt had burned the one you sent them and that fucker Baelish of course urged her to do the same. Fuck him and the day they met, honestly. Anyway, they kind of forbade me to come over if I was going to champion the cause of _the depraved part of the family_ , but I sneaked in at your sister’s football practice. They all wanted to come, bless them, but never mind that I had the money for at most one ticket other than mine, it wouldn’t have worked.”

“God. Did they draw straws?”

“No, they all automatically decided it should be Arya because other than you she was the closest to your cousin, but they gave us a few letters to bring over. And Sansa sent you a package, but I have it at the hotel.”

“It’s – it’s fine, I’ll get it later. Come on up, at least someone is going to attend this wedding other than the same five people we always hang out with.”

He’s not surprised that when he arrives upstairs Jon and Arya are not done clutching at each other.

\--

It’s a nice ceremony, all things considered. Ygritte quite literally frenches Jon when the officer tells them that he can kiss the bride, Renly uses Jon’s camera to film the entire thing, and they end up in the bar where Loras works because it’s the one place where they have a tab and where no one asks for them to actually pay up the entire thing at the end of the month. Privileges of knowing someone who works there and someone who used to.

Uncle Brynden drops by their hotel and comes back with Robb’s package and a stack of letters – three for him and three for Jon (Arya is here so no need for her to write anything). Robb opens it and finds a handmade set of woolen scarf and gloves, both grey.

“She hasn’t written it in the letter,” his uncle says, “because she said it’d sound stupid, but anyway – everything your aunt’s told them about what’s going on with you is that you caught the sickness of the degenerates. Or something equally appalling. She and Arya tried to look things up but it’s a small town and the librarian is a friend of Lysa’s, so – anyway, the one thing they found out for sure is that you have higher chances to get sick and if you do your immune system might decide to go on strike for good. And _it’s cold in New York_ , so she figured she’d make you these in case you need new ones at any point. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that it’s not that easy, but –”

Robb wipes at his eyes, trying not to cry. “It’s great. Really, it’s enough that she even thought about it that much. I’ll write her back, but just – tell her it’s the best thing she could have sent me. I mean it.” Shit, he misses his sister. He misses them all so much.

“Will do,” Uncle Brynden says. “That said, you don’t look bad. Well, for having the sickness of the bloody depraved.”

“I get by,” Robb says. “Really, I could do worse. I have a roof over my head, I have friends, I’m making enough to get by and –”

“And you aren’t having a double wedding just because you’re shacking up with a guy?”

Robb can feel his cheeks burn. “That obvious?”

“Please. Next time I go on your mother’s grave I can tell her that you’ve found yourself someone nice and she should be happy for you.”

Robb swallows his beer and looks down at the gloves in his hands. “Sometimes I wonder how much she’d hate what my life has become,” he admits.

“Well, she’d have your aunt’s hide, but I don’t think she’d hate it that much. You said it. You’re not dead yet, for one. I’m sure she’d like that. And your father as well.”

“You know,” Robb says, putting the scarf on and pocketing the gloves, “I still have your ring.”

“Ah, that. Thinking of doing something with it?”

“I might be.”

“Good. I never gave it to you so you could toss it into a drawer and forget about it.”

Robb laughs and decides that maybe it’s time he puts it to use.

Not just _now_ , though.


	5. no day but today

5\. _epilogue: winter_

“Too bad I can’t ask you to light any candles this year, huh?”

“Shut up, you love having electricity all year. And given what you meant the first time, I think I can _light your candle anyway_.”

Theon almost chokes on his eggnog, which he’d have deserved a tiny bit.

“I might take you up on it.”

“Sweet. I was going to offer anyway.”

Robb drinks a bit more of his eggnog and looks at the time – they’re supposed to meet the others at the usual place in thirty. Jon is coming directly from filming some graduation party (he didn’t seem so enthusiastic but it apparently paid enough to cover the heating for the next two bills), Ygritte had a gig in the afternoon and is coming directly as well and Loras is dismounting from his shift so he won’t even need to wait for them. Renly is probably there already.

Which means no one is going to barge in on them now.

Robb brings his hand inside his pocket and feels the ring in his fingertips, then looks at Theon. They’re both wearing a lot of layers, but then again they have to. It’s snowing outside, after all. But they’re both holding up – neither of them has gotten sick already, or enough to make their personal time bomb explode. They’re holding up well enough, Robb thinks, and maybe they will for longer than anyone had given them credit for, themselves included. He’s fairly sure that as far as he’s concerned, this is it. Of course, he could save the ring for another time and tell Theon instead that yesterday, for the first time in years, he’s written some music that he didn’t hate and whose lyrics don’t sound like shit, and he did it while thiking about _Theon_ , but somehow _that_ feels harder and maybe he’s not ready to go there until he actually has a full rough draft. 

Fuck it, ring it is.

“Listen,” he says, “I have something for you.”

“Didn’t we say –”

“No presents? I know, but I didn’t pay for it.”

“What?”

“Give me your hand?”

“… Okay. Robb, what the hell?”

He takes Theon’s scarred wrist in his hand and then grabs the ring from his pocket and holds it out in the open. It’s plain silver, with a small trout engraved on the front – it’s a family thing or so his uncle said. No one knows how long it’s been passed down, but Robb figures he’s going to be the one to put it to use for good.

“What’s that?” Theon blurts.

“My uncle gave it to me when I turned fourteen. It was the year after my mother died and – family heirloom. Never mind. Thing is – I don’t know how long the two of us have left. Maybe more than I assumed a year ago. I doubt it’ll be long enough to see the two of us being allowed in that courthouse. But it’s fine, I mean, if only it was my main worry. Still – I mean, shit, I love you, I really doubt I’m ever going to be with someone else the way I’m with you. Or that I’m going to be with someone else, period. And I don’t know if I want to wait any longer. No day but today and all that, I guess.”

“Robb –”

“Are you going to let me put it on or what?”

“You – you fucking ridiculous – _of course_ you can, but how do you dare spring this on me when you know I don’t have anything to –”

“Theon, you complete idiot, a year ago I was packing my parents’ rings to give them to Jon because I was sure I didn’t have much left to live and I could only think of how much my mother would have hated seeing what had become of my life. Now I am in no particular hurry to fucking die and believe me or not, it’s also because you went and tried horrid pick-up lines on me. You don’t have to give me anything, you already provided plenty enough.”

“You’re serious.”

“Fucking hell, you went cold turkey because you wanted this to work and you’re asking me if I’m serious?”

Theon’s cheeks flush ever so slightly, and then he shakes his head in mock resignation. “Good point. You win. Then again, if you didn’t pack up and leave during those two weeks after I went cold turkey I guess no one should have a doubt of whether you’re here for the long run or not.”

“Oh, finally you got it. So, can I?”

“I already said yes, didn’t I?”

Robb feels legitimately giddy as he slips the ring on Theon’s finger – it fits perfectly, on top of that.

“Look at that,” he says. “It’s even the right size.”

“You’re a sap,” Theon declares, and there’s absolutely no bite in it.

“Never said I wasn’t.”

Theon’s fingers tangles with his own. And then, punctual as always, their timers ring at once – they let each other’s hands go to grab their meds and they swallow in silence, then Robb reaches for Theon’s hand again.

“So, are we going?” Theon asks, squeezing Robb’s hand.

“Yeah,” Robb says. “Maybe in a moment.”

He turns off the lights and presses his lips to Theon’s as the living room falls into darkness, same as one year ago. He feels the ring press against his own skin as he holds on Theon’s hand tighter.

And then –

“Hey, Robb?”

“Yeah?”

“You said before and of course you had to drop the bomb in the fucking middle of a speech, but you know I – I love you too, right?”

Robb knows, and kisses him once again to make sure Theon knows he got that loud and clear.

He said something before because it seemed appropriate, but now that he thinks back on it – it’s more than appropriate. It’s how he should have taken things before and how he’s planning to take them now, and hopefully it won’t eventually backfire even if things turn sour. (Or when it inevitably does, a small voice tells him, but he chooses not to hear it.)

No day but today, indeed.

 

End.


End file.
